Aftermath
by Amaranth O'Riley
Summary: After the war ended, the those who lived must deal with the deaths of loved ones. This is their story. The story of the survivors.
1. Grandmother

**A/N:** [Major spoilers for Deathly Hallows in every chapter. This is your only warning!

I'm not sure how many different characters this will mention, but I welcome suggestions.

Summary: After the war ended, the survivors must live on. They must deal with the deaths of loved ones. This is their story. The story of the Aftermath.

**Grandmother**

When Arthur Weasley showed up at my doorstep, I knew what had happened. Before he opened his mouth, I knew. They were gone. I was alone now; Teddy was the only family member I had left. And I would love him, I would protect him until I died.

Nymphadora, my dear, darling, daughter, the only child I had borne, murdered. When she first came to me, saying, "Mum, I'm in love," I had been shocked. When she told me it was Remus Lupin-Remus, the young boy who had once babysat her, for Merlin's sake!-I had nearly fainted.

I had calmed down quickly, however, as I thought back. Years ago, when she was barely four years old, James, Sirius, and Remus had come over to watch her. I had only asked Sirius, but he claimed that there was no way he was going to watch 'the little demon-child' alone. I had smiled slightly and left, knowing that my daughter would be in six capable hands for the few hours I'd be gone.

Upon my return, I was quite amused to find James and Sirius cowering downstairs, covered head-to-toe in green slime, and Nymphadora sleeping in Remus's arms upstairs. They had tried to explain what had happened, but I had laughed it off, paid the three, and sent them on their way.

Even then, even when he was a sixteen-year-old boy and she just past the toddler-stages, even then she had loved him. She wouldn't have any babysitter who wasn't Remus, and would behave, for once, when Remus Lupin was over. Nobody knew why, and when asked, Nymphadora would just reply with a shrug, "'Cause he's nice," as if it explained everything.

And now both were gone. Killed, murdered by Death Eaters. And I hadn't even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Poor Teddy would grow up an orphan, grow up without ever knowing his parents. He only had me, and I feared that that wouldn't be enough. A boy needed a father, after all. I could only hope that his godfather would suffice.

How wonderful it would be-being the godson of the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the-what did they call him now?-the Hero of all the Wizarding World?

But could that be enough? Could Teddy grow up with just his grandmother and godfather? Could he have a good life without parents?

Andromeda laughed and mentally slapped herself. Harry had, and he had turned out fine. She had, too, practically, wishing to run away by her third birthday. Her parents had ignored her, shunned her, which may have been worse than being an orphan.

Teddy shrieked suddenly and began to cry out, and Andromeda picked him up.

She could make it work. She could be strong, for Teddy's sake. She needed to be. It was all for him, all for Teddy. He would have a good life, and Andromeda would make sure of that, even if it killed her.

-.-.-.-

A/N: Reviews make me happy; take the hint.

Next up: The Story of George Weasley


	2. Twin

**Twin**

Not once in his entire life had George Weasley been left alone. Fred had been by his side every single second of every single day. They finished each other's sentences, knew what the other was thinking, had the same ideas, and wanted the same things. They were Fred and George, Gred and Forge, the Weasley brothers, the founders of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, twins.

It would never be like that again, for Fred was gone. Dead. Forever gone from the world.

And for the first time in all his nineteen years, George was left completely and utterly alone.

His twin was gone. His other half. And nobody understood the pain he was going through. Everybody mourned for someone: husbands, fathers, sisters. But nobody else had lost a twin. Nobody else knew what it felt it like to have half of your identity torn away. They had always been Fred-and-George, Gred-and-Forge. Now there was only George. Sometimes, he would stop in the middle of a sentence, waiting for someone else to finish it. But nobody did. There wasn't another half. And nobody else understood how hard that was.

Nobody seemed to care that Fred was gone. People celebrated that Voldemort was dead, that the Death Eaters were being punished and imprisoned, that the world would now be calm-forever. But nobody grieved over deaths, not for long. Even his parents had seemed to move on. They had cried a bit at the funeral, but had, only days later, been interviewed about their places in the final battle. But George Weasley didn't blame them.

He blamed himself.

He had never once, since the moment he was born, left Fred's side. They were never seen without the other, not once. So why had he been on the opposite side of the castle when Fred died? Why had they separated, gone off to fight different groups of Death Eaters? Why hadn't he been there, to protect his brother, his twin? He would've pushed him out of the way, hell, he would've jumped in front of him!

And the bastard didn't even have enough sense to come back as a ghost. It would've made it easier for George to live on after that, if his brother came back. They could still finish each other's sentences, still run W.W.W. together, still be Gred-and-Forge. But no, he had left him alone. Completely, utterly, pathetically alone.

When George's ear had been blown off, he and Fred had joked about it, saying that at least, finally, people would be able to tell them apart. But there was no need.

Because now, there was only one of them. And you can't not tell twins apart when one of them was dead.

There was no need.

-.-

**A/N: **Out of all the deaths in Deathly Hallows, Fred's was the saddest. To me, at least. I know I didn't do him nearly enough justice, but my mediocre writing will have to do.

Review, please??


	3. Teacher

**Teacher**

After Dumbledore died, Minerva had wanted to quit. Hogwarts wasn't Hogwarts without Albus Dumbledore. He had been her Transfiguration teacher, all those years ago. She had never known a Hogwarts without a Dumbledore. Few people had. And with him again, she didn't want to stay. She would become Headmistress, she would be expected to take Dumbledore's place, she would be responsible for all those children. And she couldn't do it. She had it all planned out: She would re-open Hogwarts, stay for a few weeks, make sure everything was running smoothly, and then quietly retire. Flitwick, or maybe Sprout, would take her place, and the students would be fine. At least, as fine as they could be without Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

But then everything had gone wrong; the Ministry of Magic had fallen apart, taken over by Death Eaters, and Severus Snape had been named Headmaster. And then, then Minerva knew she had to stay. For the children's sake. With Snape as Headmaster, it all became obvious: the final battle would break out at Hogwarts. She needed to stay to protect the children. It was all for the children.

When Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Luna Lovegood had come to her between classes and asked what was happening, if they could help in any way possible, Minerva had been wary. She had told them that no, she wouldn't let mere children fight vicious, murderous Death Eaters. She knew it didn't help; they would fight anyway, and she could do nothing to stop them. But then dozens of others had come to her: Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Collin and Dennis Creevey, the Patils; she was surprised at the amount of people that were willing to fight. She had no idea why they came to her, for it wasn't just Gryffindors. Ernie McMillian and Susan Bones had brought an entire group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to her classroom one day, begging to be taught more advanced spells.

Minerva nearly cried. All these children that cared, that were willing to die to help the Order of the Phoenix. Finally, after exactly thirty-four students had begged to fight, she delivered a message, scrawled on Neville Longbottom's Animagi essay:

_D.A. meeting at seven o'clock._

Longbottom had looked up at her and she merely nodded. When he looked back at the paper, the message was gone.

And at exactly seven o'clock on the dot, thirty-four students showed up in her classroom.

She taught them most every spell she knew. Curses, hexes, jinxes, charms...everything that would have any chance of helping. She told them that they would rarely meet in one large group; it was too suspicious. From now on, they'd meet five to six people at a time, claiming they were going for detention, or for remedial lessons.

And it worked. For months, Minerva McGonagall, strict Transfiguration teacher became, to a few students at least, their mentor, their battle captain.

And then the Carrows became suspicious. Alecto approached her after her third-year class one day, asking why on earth she was giving remedial lessons when most of them would die anyway. She had looked at him innocently and said that of course the students would die, everyone died eventually. He had glared at her, and said what were, perhaps, the most frightening words she had ever heard.

_If any of your students attempts to rebel, they will be killed._

That had set everything into perspective. She had known, from the beginning, that some would be killed by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But for the first time, she realized what teaching this students would result in. They would be killed, and it would be completely her fault. Her fault for teaching them, her fault for giving them false hope.

For the next week, the members of the D.A. had looked up at her hopefully when she passed back homework. And for a week, all were confused as to the lack of news. Finally, Weasley and Longbottom had approached her.

_'When's the next D.A. meeting, professor?'_

_'There won't be one.'_

_'I told you Neville! I told you she'd chicken out!'_

_'Why, professor?'_

_'It's too dangerous.'_

_'So? We need to learn how to fight, how to defend ourselves!'_

_'Go back to class.'_

_'Professor!'_

_'Ten points from Gryffindor. Go back to class.'_

The next day, Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts.

He had fought valiantly, bravely, and Minerva had been proud that her student, someone she had taught, someone she had seen grown up, was fighting off more Death Eaters than she ever could have handled. He had shown up, given orders, and she had followed them. He had asked her to get the students out of Hogwarts, and she had gratefully complied.

It was all for the students.

And when it seemed Harry Potter had died, she had exploded. She screamed with more force and fury than she ever imagined she had in her. There was no way that the son of Lily Evans and James Potter would die, not on her watch. He couldn't be dead. He needed to finish this. For no matter how hard Minerva and the other teachers fought, there was no possible way that they could finish this alone, no way that they could protect the students until the end.

And then, suddenly, he wasn't.

Harry Potter had disappeared for a moment, vanishing as everyone else broke into chaos. And then he had returned. He had cheated death, had come back and finally finished off Lord Voldemort, had finally killed Tom Riddle.

And as Minerva McGonagall looked around at all the dead, at Collin Creevey, who she had been sitting in her class only hours ago, at Fred Weasley, who she had taught for six-and-a-half years, at Remus Lupin, who had been one of her best students nearly twenty years ago, and then at the survivors; at Hermione Granger, one of the cleverest witches she'd ever seen, at the Weasleys, the brave, loyal Weasleys, and at Harry Potter. Harry Potter, the boy-the man-who had defeated evil, the man who had ended it all, she felt an overwhelming sense of sadness.

Yes, it was over. But so many people had died. So many people hadn't gotten the chance to really live yet. It was James and Lily times fifty: So many young people ripped away from the world before they had really lived. It wasn't fair. Nothing ever was.

-.-

Nineteen years later, she was still teaching at Hogwarts. She had been asked if she was ready for retirement a dozen times in those nineteen years. Each time, she had declined. As long as she was still fit to teach, she would teach. She was getting old, it was true, but she still had her brains, she could still get students to listen to her.

And when she saw the faces of Teddy Lupin, of Victoire Weasley, of Rose Weasley, of James and Albus Potter, and Scorpius Malfoy, she knew it had all been worth it.

It was all for the students.

-.-

**A/N: **Well. At first, I hated this one. I thought I'd never be able to get McGonagall to express feelings without being completely out of character, and that it would be scrapped halfway through. But then I begin to really like it. It came out pretty okay. I'm happy with myself.

Review??


	4. Looney

**A/N: **Alright, so some of the events in this chapter didn't happen in the book. I know. But I figured that somebody must have killed a Death Eater, so why not Luna?

**Looney**

Luna Lovegood wasn't as crazy as everyone thought. Yes, it was true that she believed in things that other people didn't. Yes, she enjoyed wearing weird accessories. And OK, yes, she might be at least a little insane. But she still had feelings. She still cared.

At first, Luna thought the battle had been quite interesting. It had really tested her in all areas, and, for the first time, she put to use all the knowledge she had stored up in her seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But then it got hard. She saw people dying, she saw her classmates being killed, and it hit her, hard and out of nowhere: This was stupid. This whole thing; the battles, the fighting, the killing. Why did people fight? What was the point? Was anything ever resolved? Or did people just keep fighting until everyone died?

And for the first time, and hopefully only, time in her life, Luna Lovegood had killed someone. At first, she had no idea what happened. One moment, a Death Eater was pointing his wand at Neville, and the next, he was on the floor, dead. Luna hadn't even noticed her wand was in her hand; the last she had checked, it was tucked firmly into her pocket. But Neville had stared, wide-eyed at her, and she knew. It had been _her_. She had killed someone. And suddenly, without knowing or thinking, she was a murderer. She had contributed to all this fighting, to this killing that, just moments ago, she had considered stupid.

And everything just clicked into place.

She knew what was going to happen. She knew that more people were going to die, that she could be one of those people.

And she felt scared.

Luna Lovegood hadn't felt this scared in a while. Not since she had seen her mother lying on her back in the kitchen, sparks flying through the air, wand still held tightly in her hand. And now, she felt a million times worse.

It was bad enough when her mother had left her; she couldn't deal with all her friends dying, too.

So Luna fought fiercely, refusing to kill again, but still doing some serious damage to any Death Eater that got near her friends. When she had seen Bellatrix Lestrange shoot a killing curse at Ginny, she felt a fresh tide of anger. Ginny had been her first friend, the only person who had been brave enough to talk to 'Looney Lovegood'. She pointed her wand at Lestrange, but Mrs. Weasley was faster, and Bellatrix was dead within a minute. Luna had grabbed Ginny and pulled her out of the way, ducking _Avada Kerdavras_ and shooting spells right and left.

And then, thankfully, it was over. Harry Potter killed Voldemort. Death Eaters fled from Hogwarts, and the survivors huddled together, in a mix of celebration and mourning.

She had seen Harry, later, and he had collapsed next to her.

"I'd want some peace and quiet, if it were me," she said.

"I'd love some," he had replied.

"I'll distract them," she offered. "Use your Cloak."

She had immediately pointed out the nearest window and cried, as loud as she could, "Ooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!"

Everyone had turned suddenly, and, seeing nothing but the lightening sky, turned back to their conversations and muttered something about 'Looney.'

Luna had sat back in her seat calmly, knowing that everything would be o.k. again. It no longer mattered that she had killed, for it all helped in the end. She still felt remorseful occasionally, wondering if the Death Eater had had any family members that were now mourning him, but put it out of her mind quickly. After all, she was out of school now. She needed to do some research, help continue the Quibbler. For she would never need to fight again.

Never again.

-.-

**A/N: **Eh. This is kinda the opposite of McGonagall's. At first, I thought, 'Oh, Luna, that's gonna turn out good!' but now I don't like it much. Oh well.

Review anyway?? ;)


	5. Brother

**Brother**

Dennis Creevey hadn't even seen his brother die. He had escaped to the Hog's Head shortly after the battle started. He was one of the only Gryffindors to do so, and he had been somewhat ashamed. As a Gryffindor, he was supposed to be brave, he was supposed to fight. But he was to scared, and he had left his older brother inside the castle. It wasn't until much later, when all the bodies were collected, that he spotted Collin being taken away, covered in scrapes and dried blood. He had rushed forward, clutched his older brother's hand, and begun to cry. McGonagall, who had been instructing teachers on what to do with the bodies, looked at him sadly and patted him on the back.

"Your brother saved lives, you know. He was very heroic."

Dennis had smiled through his tears and looked at his brother's body admiringly. Collin had shown true Gryffindor courage: something Dennis thought he'd never be able to do. He wasn't brave like Collin. That's why he was alive, when his older brother was dead. That's why he would have to return home, tell his parents that their eldest son had been killed, murdered whilst trying to protect other students.

And he had done it.

Dennis Creevey had returned home the next afternoon, alone, to his confused parents.

"Denny!" His mum had cried, throwing her arms around him, "We were so worried, you said there was a war going on and-where's your brother?"

Dennis had begun to cry all over again and collapsed to the floor. For the first time, the true reality sunk in-Collin would never be returning from Hogwarts. Dennis was an only child now, and never again would his brother teach him more advanced magic. He was the only wizard in his family now. Collin was gone.

His parents had been shocked, disbelieving. There was no way that the teachers would let a mere sixteen-year-old die in a battle, they said. They would have protected all the students. There was no way Collin was dead, he must just be missing.

It had taken Dennis over an hour to convince his parents that yes, Collin was dead, and he had seen the body. The teachers had tried to protect the students, he explained, but some had rebelled and left to fight with the rest. Collin had been one of them. His parents had sat silently for quite some time after that. Mrs. Creevey cried silently while her husband held her close. Finally, Dennis's dad spoke:

"We should be celebrating. Our son was a hero. He died a hero's death."

And that was what had been put on Collin Creevey's gravestone:

_Collin Patrick Creevey_

_November 23, 1981-June 3, 1997_

_He died a hero's death_

As Dennis stood in front of his brother, holding back tears as he read the inscription on the tombstone, he realized it was true. Collin had died a hero's death. Dennis was living a coward's life.

-.-

A/N: Well...I found that one to be quite depressing. And, seeing as I had no idea what day the battle actually took place, I took a guess. If anybody knows the real date, please tell me.

I'm sorry I can't reply to all your reviews, I just don't have the time right now; with band camp every single day for the rest of my summer, I'm lucky to find time to update. But thanks for all the positive comments, and for correcting my many mistakes. You guys are the best.

**Special Thanks to Maiden of the Undead for giving me the idea to write about Dennis & snowyowl7 for pointing out my errors.**


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